Wallenda's walk enthralled the nation

Published: Saturday, December 29, 2012 at 9:00 p.m.

Last Modified: Saturday, December 29, 2012 at 9:00 p.m.

Rarely do intentional bids for immortality produce images that adequately reflect the scope and scale of the quest. But on June 15, when Sarasota performance artist Nik Wallenda completed his dazzling wire walk across Niagara Falls, global audiences were enthralled by an unprecedented vision of willpower destined to outlive all who saw and participated in it.

Dwarfed by 200-foot cascades and framed in mists glazed by network lighting, Wallenda's 25-minute adventure with the spectacular indifference of nature unfolded in bird's-eye panoramas, best appreciated from above and afar.

Yet, more than 100,000 spectators chose to crowd the rim of the Niagara River Gorge for a closeup. And in missing the wide-angle grandeur chronicled by ABC, some, like New Yorker Don West, would

find themselves overwhelmed in a manner that no television feed could appreciate.

West, 53, announced to his wife and work colleagues he was going to take the day off as soon as Wallenda got the green light from American and Canadian authorities in 2011.

On the morning of the 15th, West drove from his home in Grand Island, just a few minutes from Niagara Falls, and parked his car on the U.S. side, at the Seneca Niagara Casino & Hotel. West marched alone across the Rainbow Bridge at the border. He walked into Ontario and settled in for breakfast at the Niagara Fallsview Casino Resort. There was no mistaking his intentions. He wore a black "Nik Wallenda" baseball cap.

West, who likes to hunt and fish, was worried about the seventh-generation circus star. The winter was so warm, Lake Erie never froze over. And the water was 70 degrees.

"That's not normal," West said that Friday morning. "This time of year, it needs to be a good 8 to 10 degrees cooler, in the low 60s. Anything that stays in the water for more than a day or two has a light coat of slick algae film on it. My concern is for Nik's wire."

"It's out there getting wetter and wetter."

On Wednesday, Wallenda's crew strung the 2-inch diameter cable across the lip of Horseshoe Falls, where it had been drenched ever since by spray from more than a million gallons of water crashing by the second onto the rocks some 200 feet below.

By late Friday afternoon, Niagara Parkway had swollen into a pedestrian mall, where the scents of barbecue and reefer stoked the carnival atmosphere. And over by the press area outside the Table Rock Welcome Centre, set to receive Wallenda some four hours hence, Don West was holding his ground and trying to look inconspicuous.

"I figured this was as close as I could get," said West, just a stone's throw from the platform where the owner of six Guinness World Records would complete his trans-national walk.

West had been standing there since noon. He didn't have a folding chair. He packed water, sandwiches and granola bars, but he refused to eat or drink for fear of having to scoot off for the bathroom and lose his spot. Moments earlier, security had herded all unbadged spectators from the area and behind barricades — all except for West. And a man and his son in a wheelchair. And another total stranger, a middle-aged woman.

"The cops said, 'You've got to move,' and I said 'Can you hang on for a second; Channel 7 News wants to interview me and I'll leave after that.' Which was true — they did their interview," West said.

"But then I just sort of walked over to a corner and stayed there. Maybe they don't want to run the four of us off because they think we're a family."

So West literally held his water as the minutes turned to hours and the sun melted beneath lavender skies and the production lights began to blaze. As the 10 o'clock start time neared, West raised his binoculars to Terrapin Point, nearly a half mile away on the American side, and waited for clues.

There were no public address speakers to prepare the Table Rock crowds, no countdown updates. The jumbotron carrying the live feed was positioned farther north, away from the swirling condensation. For all practical purposes, the audience closest to the action was under an information blackout.

A thousand cameras flashed across the Gorge, soundtracked by a crescendo of cheers muffled by the roar of the Falls.

"My god," said West, the subject of his awe occluded by distance and mists. "I can't believe I'm here." He continued scanning through the glasses. "I think I was supposed to be here."

For 10 long minutes, the Table Rock crowd was screened from the drama unfolding across 13 million TV sets, the live radio chatter between Wallenda and his father Terry Troffer, the incessant and often gratuitous gushing from network anchors. Mostly, they missed Wallenda's stream-of-consciousness audio euphoria as he traversed 1,800 feet of thin air:

"How I praise you, Jesus ... Oh Lord, you are my savior"; "This is what dreams are made of, people, pursue your dreams, never give up"; "Oh my gosh, it's an unbelievable view — I am so blessed to be in the position I'm in."

The winds shifted once more and through a slit in the veil emerged the first phantom sketch of Wallenda, half-formed, glistening contours, a dull smudge of red from his jacket. Then it was Canada's turn to flash and strobe.

West couldn't see what millions at home could, the tight shots, the cat-like gait of elkskin moccasins, one foot after another, steady and certain, testing the cable dripping with unseasonably warm water. But he could feel it. "He's really a blessed man, I'll tell ya," West said to no one in particular, working his little camera. "The Lord up there's really taking care of him."

Wallenda drew closer, into focus, the balancing pole, the hated safety tether imposed on him by network lawyers. "Drop the harness, Nik!" Sporadic cries from Table Rock. "Drop the harness!"

"My hands feel like they're getting numb," radioed Wallenda, loaded with 78 pounds of equipment and camera gear on the final leg of his up-slope climb into Canada. "I feel like I'm getting weak." Moments later, he took a knee, waved a fist, then scurried quickly onto the ABC platform.

"Holy Jesus God Almighty!" exclaimed West, looking to be on the brink of collapse himself. "This is a day I'll never forget!"

West hadn't even seen the iconic photos yet. But then, that aesthetic was effortless, and available to anybody with a television.

The next stop in Nik Wallenda's conquest of nature is the Grand Canyon next summer. The date has yet to be announced.

<p>Rarely do intentional bids for immortality produce images that adequately reflect the scope and scale of the quest. But on June 15, when Sarasota performance artist Nik Wallenda completed his dazzling wire walk across Niagara Falls, global audiences were enthralled by an unprecedented vision of willpower destined to outlive all who saw and participated in it.</p><p>Dwarfed by 200-foot cascades and framed in mists glazed by network lighting, Wallenda's 25-minute adventure with the spectacular indifference of nature unfolded in bird's-eye panoramas, best appreciated from above and afar. </p><p>Yet, more than 100,000 spectators chose to crowd the rim of the Niagara River Gorge for a closeup. And in missing the wide-angle grandeur chronicled by ABC, some, like New Yorker Don West, would</p><p>find themselves overwhelmed in a manner that no television feed could appreciate.</p><p>West, 53, announced to his wife and work colleagues he was going to take the day off as soon as Wallenda got the green light from American and Canadian authorities in 2011. </p><p>On the morning of the 15th, West drove from his home in Grand Island, just a few minutes from Niagara Falls, and parked his car on the U.S. side, at the Seneca Niagara Casino & Hotel. West marched alone across the Rainbow Bridge at the border. He walked into Ontario and settled in for breakfast at the Niagara Fallsview Casino Resort. There was no mistaking his intentions. He wore a black "Nik Wallenda" baseball cap.</p><p>West, who likes to hunt and fish, was worried about the seventh-generation circus star. The winter was so warm, Lake Erie never froze over. And the water was 70 degrees.</p><p>"That's not normal," West said that Friday morning. "This time of year, it needs to be a good 8 to 10 degrees cooler, in the low 60s. Anything that stays in the water for more than a day or two has a light coat of slick algae film on it. My concern is for Nik's wire." </p><p>"It's out there getting wetter and wetter."</p><p>On Wednesday, Wallenda's crew strung the 2-inch diameter cable across the lip of Horseshoe Falls, where it had been drenched ever since by spray from more than a million gallons of water crashing by the second onto the rocks some 200 feet below.</p><p>By late Friday afternoon, Niagara Parkway had swollen into a pedestrian mall, where the scents of barbecue and reefer stoked the carnival atmosphere. And over by the press area outside the Table Rock Welcome Centre, set to receive Wallenda some four hours hence, Don West was holding his ground and trying to look inconspicuous. </p><p>"I figured this was as close as I could get," said West, just a stone's throw from the platform where the owner of six Guinness World Records would complete his trans-national walk.</p><p>West had been standing there since noon. He didn't have a folding chair. He packed water, sandwiches and granola bars, but he refused to eat or drink for fear of having to scoot off for the bathroom and lose his spot. Moments earlier, security had herded all unbadged spectators from the area and behind barricades — all except for West. And a man and his son in a wheelchair. And another total stranger, a middle-aged woman.</p><p>"The cops said, 'You've got to move,' and I said 'Can you hang on for a second; Channel 7 News wants to interview me and I'll leave after that.' Which was true — they did their interview," West said. </p><p>"But then I just sort of walked over to a corner and stayed there. Maybe they don't want to run the four of us off because they think we're a family."</p><p>So West literally held his water as the minutes turned to hours and the sun melted beneath lavender skies and the production lights began to blaze. As the 10 o'clock start time neared, West raised his binoculars to Terrapin Point, nearly a half mile away on the American side, and waited for clues.</p><p>There were no public address speakers to prepare the Table Rock crowds, no countdown updates. The jumbotron carrying the live feed was positioned farther north, away from the swirling condensation. For all practical purposes, the audience closest to the action was under an information blackout.</p><p>A thousand cameras flashed across the Gorge, soundtracked by a crescendo of cheers muffled by the roar of the Falls. </p><p>"My god," said West, the subject of his awe occluded by distance and mists. "I can't believe I'm here." He continued scanning through the glasses. "I think I was supposed to be here."</p><p>For 10 long minutes, the Table Rock crowd was screened from the drama unfolding across 13 million TV sets, the live radio chatter between Wallenda and his father Terry Troffer, the incessant and often gratuitous gushing from network anchors. Mostly, they missed Wallenda's stream-of-consciousness audio euphoria as he traversed 1,800 feet of thin air:</p><p>"How I praise you, Jesus ... Oh Lord, you are my savior"; "This is what dreams are made of, people, pursue your dreams, never give up"; "Oh my gosh, it's an unbelievable view — I am so blessed to be in the position I'm in."</p><p>The winds shifted once more and through a slit in the veil emerged the first phantom sketch of Wallenda, half-formed, glistening contours, a dull smudge of red from his jacket. Then it was Canada's turn to flash and strobe.</p><p>West couldn't see what millions at home could, the tight shots, the cat-like gait of elkskin moccasins, one foot after another, steady and certain, testing the cable dripping with unseasonably warm water. But he could feel it. "He's really a blessed man, I'll tell ya," West said to no one in particular, working his little camera. "The Lord up there's really taking care of him."</p><p>Wallenda drew closer, into focus, the balancing pole, the hated safety tether imposed on him by network lawyers. "Drop the harness, Nik!" Sporadic cries from Table Rock. "Drop the harness!"</p><p>"My hands feel like they're getting numb," radioed Wallenda, loaded with 78 pounds of equipment and camera gear on the final leg of his up-slope climb into Canada. "I feel like I'm getting weak." Moments later, he took a knee, waved a fist, then scurried quickly onto the ABC platform.</p><p>"Holy Jesus God Almighty!" exclaimed West, looking to be on the brink of collapse himself. "This is a day I'll never forget!"</p><p>West hadn't even seen the iconic photos yet. But then, that aesthetic was effortless, and available to anybody with a television.</p><p>The next stop in Nik Wallenda's conquest of nature is the Grand Canyon next summer. The date has yet to be announced.</p>